In Rum Veritas
by tjsmklvr
Summary: There are worse things than being stranded on a tropical island with Lee Stetson.
1. Default Chapter

**Author:** Taya Johnston (tjsmklvr)

**Rating:** PG

**Disclaimer:** "Scarecrow and Mrs. King" and the characters of Lee and Amanda are the property of Warner Brothers and Shoot the Moon Enterprises. The story belongs to me and is for entertainment purposes only.

**Timeline:** Late Third Season

**Feedback:** Yes, please, on list or off.

**Summary: **There are worse things than being stranded on a tropical island with Lee Stetson.

**Author's Notes:** Thank you to my wonderful beta team! I couldn't (and wouldn't) have done it without you.

**In Rum Veritas ****(In Rum There Is Truth)**

**"If by my life or death, I can protect you, I will" -- Aragorn**

"Ah, damn! They hit our fuel line!" Lee tapped the rapidly descending gauge hoping it was only a malfunction. No such luck.

"Lee! Look out for that tree!" Amanda screamed from beside him.

"I see it! I see it!" He jerked the plane back up, trying to project calm control. It didn't seem to be working. "Look, Amanda you're going to have to look for a place for us to land this thing."

"What?"

Her panic stricken face was not what he needed to see right now. He needed to know she was focused and prepared to handle what was coming. "Land, Amanda! We're losing fuel faster by the second. I need to get us on the ground and now! Start looking for any open space--preferably not the water."

"Right." She raised her chin and then nodded.

Lee sighed in relief—that did it, she was focused now. While she scanned the great expanse beneath them for a break in the trees, he wondered briefly if there was actually a good place to crash land. Amanda's shouting pulled him from his thoughts and he examined an area she pointed out. It was small but it seemed their only choice. He'd have to be precise--there would be no room for miscalculations. He couldn't let anything happen to her—if he could just miss skimming the trees they'd be in the clear.

"Amanda, get yourself in back and strapped down. There's going to be –"

"Already here!" She yelled from behind the cockpit.

Glancing back he saw her sheepishly smiling at him. "Good girl, now when we hit, I want you to hold on tight. I'm gonna try and make it as soft as possible but –"

"I know, Lee. Just do your best."

"Amanda, if we –"

"We'll make it! You can do it." Her voice shook with conviction.

If only he had as much confidence in himself as she had in him. She believed in him. She always did. How could anyone place that much trust in another human being? He only hoped it wasn't misplaced.

Tapping once again on the fuel gauge, he realized it was now or never. "Ok, here we go. Hang on tight back there!" Stealing a glance behind him, his eyes locked with hers. It was as if they had spoken without saying a word. That one look conveyed what he couldn't say in nearly three years of knowing her. 'We have to survive this . . .'

So much for missing the trees—he cringed as the first branches bombarded the belly of the plane. His fists clenched the controls in a white knuckled death grip as the plane continued to whip through the canopy. Jagged branches stabbed through the plane's side windows as if they were made of paper and Lee dodged the splintered glass.

"Oh my gosh!"

"Just hang on!" He wanted to comfort her, but he knew nothing would calm her at this point. They were going to crash and there was nothing he could do about it.

This was going to hurt.

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**"Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow." Anonymous**

She awoke to the loud snapping of the fire, and felt something cool on her forehead. Her head hurt! She moved her hand up to inspect the source of the throbbing only to come into contact with a very strong hand holding a damp cloth.

"Whoa, don't try to move."

"Lee? Wh-what happened?" She struggled to sit up--it didn't help that he was holding her down.

"You took a pretty good wallop. Take it easy—you could have a concussion." He continued to wipe the encrusted blood from her temple. "Do you know what hit you?"

She closed her eyes trying to focus on his words, but images of the last moments before the crash assailed her. It was happening all over again--the drops of perspiration that dripped down her partner's forehead as he fought to gain control of the small luxury plane, the tension, and the fear. She'd put her life in his hands dozens of times before and he had never disappointed her—if he failed this time, she knew it wouldn't be from a lack of trying.

Her stomach flipped and her eyes scrunched shut as the plane wildly tilted. This was it--they were going down. The sound of shattering glass was muffled by the scream of the engine and the pounding of her own heart.

Amanda thought of her boys and mother. Would they ever know what happened to her? What would the agency tell them? Would they understand her secret life? If only she'd had more time—she would have . . . She shook the negative thoughts from her head. "We're gonna make it." She whispered, trying to calm her frayed nerves.

She now knew what Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz must have felt like during the tornado. Objects flying out of cabinets, windows exploding, and oxygen masks falling from above. Then she felt it—a sharp blow to her head. She struggled against the haze that threatened to overtake her. What if Lee needed her? She needed to stay awake—but the fog prevailed. Amanda instinctively brought her hand up to her head and was surprised to come into contact with blood. It was no use; the blinding pain was just too much causing her world to go black.

The loud popping of the fire broke through the iron grip of her memory, and pulled her back to the present. "Um, I think it was a piece of the plane—some metal or something. I'm not really quite sure, it happened so fast." She leveled herself and looked around. The sunset was a dim orange glow across the water and there was white sand as far as the eye could see. The crash of the sea against the large rocks lining the shore and the warmth of the fire before her made it almost an idyllic setting, had they not nearly died getting there.

"Here, take this." He handed her two small white pills and a bottle of water. "I found some aspirin in your pack. You're gonna have one hell of a headache."

"Thanks. But you're too late, it already arrived." She weakly smiled, taking the pills and gingerly throwing them back before taking a gulp of water.

"Don't drink too much. Who knows how long we'll be here before they find us." He stoked the fire and the flames snapped back, warming her skin.

She placed the cap back on the water and rolled the bottle between her hands. "You don't think Brenes' men will come looking for us, do you?"

"I doubt it." She raised her eyebrow, and he continued. "I'm sure they knew they hit us and that we would eventually go down. Besides, if they were looking for us they would have found us by now."

"So, where do you think we are?"

"Well, before those Columbians shot us down, we were headed northeast toward Texas. So, my guess is we're somewhere off the coast of Venezuela."

Her eyes scanned up and down the beach and then behind them. "Lee, where's the plane?"

"You mean what's left of it? It's over that ridge." He nodded his head to his left. "They shot out the radio. I tried to fix it but there was no use. Either they knew exactly what they were doing or they were lucky as hell--they got our fuel line too."

"Thank God Billy gave in and allowed us to use the plane as part of our cover or we would have been stranded once we snuck out of that camp."

"Yeah, what are the odds that one of Brenes' men would realize that I wasn't the Daniel Harmon—weapons dealer extraordinaire after four days in their camp?"

"I thought for sure he was going to shoot us right on the spot."

"Lucky for us, he wanted to earn points with Brenes by taking us back to camp."

"And lucky that you were able to knock the gun out of his hand." She smiled proudly at him.

"Only after you were able to distract him with that supposed twisted ankle. Quick thinking there, Mrs. King."

"Thank you." She nodded. "Do you think the Agency will be able to find us?" Amanda held her breath waiting for his answer.

"Well—"

"Come on, Lee. Don't try to sugar coat it. I can handle it."

"Amanda, I wasn't going to sugar coat anything. I was going to say that with the beacon from our plane the Agency would be able to pinpoint the area—"

"Oh, good!" She sighed in relief.

"Unfortunately, they won't start looking for us for a at least a day or two. Remember, we weren't supposed to check in for another 24 hours or so."

"Ok, so two days. We can do that." She shrugged. It would be like camping. They could handle this. He'd already built a fire, so, that left water and food. "How much water do we have?" She shook the bottle in her hand for emphasis.

"Two more bottles. As long as they realize we're missing right away we'll be fine."

"They'll notice!" They'd need to go look for food and gather more wood before it got too dark, and Amanda stood up only to realize she'd done it much too quickly.

"Whoa! A-man-da! Where do you think you're going?" He braced her shoulders and quickly lowered her back down to the blanket.

"Lee, I'm fine. I just got up too fast is all. We need to find some food before it gets too dark." She abruptly brushed the sand off the blanket in frustration. Why did he have to treat her like a china doll? Hadn't she proven herself to him over the past few years? Judging by the stern look he was giving her, she hadn't.

"After I carried you out of the plane and found this place I went back for our gear. There were a few snack packs and the bottled water stashed away in one of the cupboards. It's not much, but it'll be enough to get us through the night. In the morning we can take a look around and maybe catch a fish or two."

"Wow, and here I sat." She laughed.

"I'll let you catch the fish tomorrow, will that make you feel better?"

She tilted her head and eyed him suspiciously. "What about firewood?"

"Already taken care of." He motioned his thumb behind him to the small pile of branches and brush.

"Just how long was I out, Scarecrow?"

His eyes narrowed as he studied her, and he answered under his breath. "Long enough."

She recognized that look. It reminded her of her boys when they were scared. He was worried about her. It was rare he lowered his walls in front of her, and when she got a glimpse it was always quite revealing. Wanting to put him at ease, she reached up and grasped his hand, firmly, willing him to feel her strength. "Lee, I'm fine, really. It was just a bump on the head. I've had worse."

He smiled weakly down at her and then the walls snapped back in place. "Why don't you just lay back and rest. I'm going to go try and find something to open this coconut with." He tossed the brown hairy ball in the air and wagged his eyebrows. "Maybe if we're lucky we can have it for dessert."

She sighed as she watched him fade back into the brush behind their makeshift camp.

TBC . . .


	2. Chapter 2

(See chapter 1 for disclaimers)

**_"Why not go out on a limb? Isn't that where the fruit is?" -- Frank Scully_**

Amanda opened her eyes slowly, focusing on the dimming fire. She had tried to smooth out a nest in the sand before she fell asleep, but there were lumps in all the wrong places. What she wouldn't have given for a bed. Tight muscles and banged up limbs protested as she squirmed on the hard sand beneath her. Running her toes through the cold granules, she contemplated staying put for a while longer. That idea was short lived. If she could just stretch out—painful as it was, her blood would start flowing, and maybe that Charlie horse in her calf would ease. She jumped when her spine cracked at the top of her stretch, then she relaxed into the sand and closed her eyes. Much better.

The warm sun was already breaking though the horizon, kissing her cheeks. In a few short hours she'd be sweating, but for now, she was cold. Well, she had to get up sometime. She rolled onto her knees before pushing herself to her feet with a groan. And nearly fell over the lump lying to her left. Cocooned in the blanket, her sleeping partner was wedged up against the large log that they had claimed as their base. Comfort didn't seem to be an option on the island for either of them.

He looked completely exhausted. Not able to shave during the four days in Brenes' camp had only added to his deteriorating appearance. Staying up most of the night keeping an eye on both the fire and her didn't help matters. He'd woken her several times to make sure she was okay. She recalled him whispering to her as he nudged her awake. _"You never can be too sure with concussions, Amanda."_ She realized now that she could have been a bit more thankful than she was at the time. Hopefully, most of what she grumbled had been incoherent.

She quietly grabbed her backpack and walked along the shoreline--so much to explore. No sense in waking him just yet; she'd see if she could find something for breakfast first.

She was nearly over the ridge when she saw their plane--a tangled mess of metal and branches at the edge of the small clearing. She couldn't see how Lee walked away from it. The cabin was wedged into a large rock formation and the windows were completely knocked out. She shuddered at the thought of him crammed in that tiny space. Somehow he got not only himself out of there but carried her out as well. Amazing.

Circling past the wreckage, she heard the faint sounds of water flowing. Since she was moving further and further away from the sea, she figured there must be fresh water somewhere near by. Pushing past the overgrown brush, she found a small pool of clear water, and the crystal spring that trickled into it from up above. She bent down and scooped up a handful of water and tentatively took a sip—it was heavenly. Cold, crisp, and best of all—salt free.

With a shrug of her shoulders, the pack dropped to the sand and Amanda rifled through it, pulling out fresh undergarments, a shirt, and pair of pants. She felt grimy from the long night and the caked on blood and intermixed sand didn't help. Clean sounded wonderful.

Leaning over the water's edge, she could feel the sun warming her back--it was going to be another scorcher. She grabbed a stick and poked it through her clean shirt. The ripping sounds broke through the quiet morning, startling her, and it finally hit. They really were all alone. Well, dwelling on it wasn't going to make it any better.

After inspecting the light pink shirt she nodded at her handy work and continued with the other side. When she was done she started in on her khaki pants. Tailoring done, she pulled the bloodstained tee shirt over her head, wet the edges with her opened bottle of water, and wiped her face and body with it. At least she'd be able to scour away a couple of layers of dirt and blood. She smiled to herself. Lee was going to be so—

"A-man-da! I've been looking everywhere for you! Why did you wonder off? You could have gotten hurt!

"Lee!" She screamed, diving for cover behind a nearby tree. The triumphant smile that was there only seconds before was now replaced with a scowl. She poked her head around the tall palm and looked down at her state of undress, motioning him to turn around. "Do you mind?" When he complied she buttoned her newly cut shirt and snapped her shorts closed. Was he looking? A quick glace told her he hadn't peeked. She tied the ends of her shirt together and grinned. Ready to face the world.

"I'm sorry about that. I was just worried when I woke up and you were gone."

"I know. I guess I should have told you but you were sleeping so soundly, and I know you couldn't have gotten much rest last night what with watching over me and the fire."

He eyed her from head to toe. "You look . . . better this morning."

"I feel better. Look what I found." She pointed to the small spring behind him. "Fresh water!"

"That's great. I take it you saw the plane?" He eyed her suspiciously as if waiting for her to cringe.

She shivered. "I saw it. Lee, how ever did you get out of there? Are you sure you're not hurt?" She walked over and examined him. Scanning for any major injuries--only finding minor cuts and scrapes.

He grabbed her hands and smiled. "Amanda, I'm fine. Honest. I guess I was just lucky. I have to admit it was a bit tricky getting out of that cockpit. I'm not really quite sure how I did it. I just knew I had to get back there to you . . ."

She smiled warmly at him and trailed her fingers down his arm. "So, are you hungry? Why don't I go see if I can find something edible for breakfast while you get cleaned up, huh?"

"Uh, yeah. Thanks."

She glanced around, feeling a bit awkward. "So, I'll just . . ." Turning on her heel she headed in the direction of what she hoped would be breakfast.

"Uh, Amanda?"

Turning back, she replied. "Yeah?"

"Don't go wandering too far, huh?"

She nodded and smiled knowingly. "Right."

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"He that climbs the tall tree has won right to the fruit." -- Sir Walter Scott 

He turned around to show off his new attire and briefly wondered if she cut his shorts a bit too short on purpose. "So, what do you think?"

"You look like a new man. Feel better?" She asked from her seat beside the fire.

"Yeah, thanks for the . . . trim." He pulled at the threads hanging off his shorts, hoping she wouldn't notice the bruising up and down his legs from the crash.

"Come on over." She patted the sand next to her, grabbing a banana and peeling it as he plopped down next to her. "I know you're not much on eating breakfast, but after last night's lack of dinner I thought you might be a little hungry."

He watched her peel the fruit and then took a bite. His stomach growled and she grinned. "Where did you find these?" He picked up one of the greenish-yellow bananas from the small bunch lying by her feet and sniffed it.

"They were growing not too far from that spring. There's plenty more . . . I just couldn't carry that many, what with the carailli and jackfruit." She indicated the bright green prickly looking object and something else that resembled a rock.

"What the hell are those?"

"I told you, carailli and jackfruit." She answered matter-of-factly.

He furrowed his brow at her. "Ok, and those would be?"

"Well," she picked up the bright green prickly thing and tossed it at him. When he caught it she continued. "That is carailli. It's like a cucumber-type fruit. It's in the melon family but very bitter. Not the tastiest thing but I wasn't sure if the ackee were ripe and if they aren't ripe they are very poisonous. And this," she tossed him the cylinder-shaped rock. "Is a jackfruit. The pulp is really tasty."

He shook his head in amazement. "And just how do you all about this, Mrs. King?" He set the unusual fruit down in front of him and took the pocketknife she held out.

"Easy, the Gilstraps went on a Caribbean cruise last year and brought back some. Jamie was so interested in the different tastes he did a school project on the "fruits of the Caribbean."

"Of course!" He laughed at the normalcy of it all. "Um, Amanda. How did they get it through Customs?"

"Would you suspect a little old couple of transporting illegal fruit into the country?"

"No, I guess not." He shrugged picking up a piece of the carailli and popping it into his mouth. "Oh God!" Quickly spitting it into the fire, he took a swig of water and wiped his mouth on his shirttail. "That is disgusting!"

"I told you it was bitter." She giggled. "It can't be that bad." She took a small nibble and spit it out just as fast as he had. "Oh my gosh! That's awful!" She laughed and reached for his water bottle.

He held the bottle above his head. "Oh, I thought it wasn't so bad?"

"Come on, Lee! Hand it over, I need to rinse my mouth." She held his right arm with one hand and reached for his left hand and the bottle.

Just as she was about to grab it he pulled his right hand from her grasp and lightly tickled her bare abdomen. He was startled by the softness of her skin. His heart beat a bit faster and his mind screamed that he shouldn't be doing this but his hand had other ideas.

"Lee! No tickling! That's not fair!"

He continued his attack, laughing the entire time. "Not fair, Amanda? Making someone eat that stuff is not fair. _This,_" he dug his fingers deeper into her ribs. "Is totally fair."

"I – wa—warned you it wa-was bitter." She gyrated in his arms trying to break free. Suddenly she stopped laughing and fell limp.

"Amanda? Are you ok?" Feeling as if his stomach was now in his throat, he checked her pulse, only to hear her light laughter. Her eyes twinkled back at him, and torn between a laugh and a scream, he pointed his finger in her direction. "Amanda King, that was _not_ funny!"

His gaze dropped to the water in her hand.

"Got you to stop, didn't I?" She took a big gulp of water and smiled brightly at him.

He sighed as he picked up the jackfruit and stabbed the knife into its juicy core. "Not funny at all." He whispered as his heart slowly regained it's steady beat.

TBC . . .


	3. Chapter 3

(See chapter 1 for disclaimers)

**"It's important to begin a search on a full stomach." -- Henry Bromel, Northern Exposure, The Big Kiss, 1991**

Lunch was plentiful, if not exactly filling. He couldn't just sit there any longer—and by the look of boredom on Amanda's face she felt it too. They needed to get up and do something. The camp was stocked with firewood and water, perhaps they could go exploring. He stood up and held out his hand. At her questioning gaze, he nodded towards the brush behind them. "Let's take a walk."

"Ok, let me grab my pack." She stuffed the water bottles and a couple of jackfruit into the front pocket before turning her attention to him. He cocked his head and laughed. _'Ever the scout.'_

"What?"

"Nothing." He smiled. "You ready?"

"Yep, let's go." She turned back and grabbed the knife sitting on the long log that they had declared 'the couch' and stuck it in her pocket. "You never know." She mumbled under her breath.

After reaching the top of the rock formation, he reached for her hand to help her up. Never letting go, they continued their walk, hand-in-hand. Her warm fingers entwined in his made him smile. When had she become such a big part of his world? Wasn't it just yesterday she rushed into his life? Sneaking a peek at her sun-kissed skin as they trudged through the sand, he couldn't hold back the thoughts. 'She really does have great legs!' He chastised himself for thinking such things. They were friends and partners. That was all.

"Lee?"

"Hmmm? I'm sorry, what were you saying?" Embarrassed to be caught daydreaming about her, he ran his hand through his thickening beard.

"I was just asking if you were thirsty." She shook the bottle in front of him.

"Oh, yeah. Thanks." It really was a good thing she found that spring this morning. It was hot, and getting hotter. They were going to need all the water they could find to stay hydrated.

"Lee, what's that?"

"What's what?" He looked to the area she was pointing out.

"That shiny thing--there--hidden by the trees."

He shaded his eyes against the blaring sun, struggling to focus on the object. Too far away to tell what it was. Putting the cap back on the water bottle, he handed it to her. "Let's go take a look."

Removing branches and vines that had grown over the burned out metal, he looked back at her. "Well, so much for naming this island after us. Looks like someone beat us here." The crumpled remains of what appeared to be a crop duster lay before them. A small tree grew out of the rotted cockpit, and years of rain had corroded the shell of the small plane and left rings of rust.

"You don't suppose . . ." She couldn't finish her thought, staring at what was left of the cockpit, but he knew exactly what she was getting at.

"Well, I doubt it fell from the sky by itself. I'll go take a look." He grasped the door handle and yanked on it, almost afraid it would come off in his hands. Ignoring the loud creak, he lowered his head and stepped inside. The interior was gutted with only two large duffle bags lying askew on the floor. Nature had clearly claimed this wreckage as it's own. Large cobwebs and vines hung in every corner and a family of rodents had obviously been calling it home for quite some time. He slid up to the front of the plane, bracing himself for a gruesome scene. He wasn't disappointed. By the looks of the skeletal remains the pilot had died several years ago.

Climbing back through the shifting wreckage, he grabbed one of the duffle bags and slowly opened it. Cocaine. A drug runner. Lee zipped it back up and grabbed the other expecting to find the same. Much to his surprise he found bundles of cash and a case of very expensive rum. At least the pilot was smart enough to wrap them individually so they wouldn't break. "How thoughtful." Lee whispered as he grabbed one and tossed it into his pack.

"Lee? What did you find?" Amanda yelled into the plane. Zipping the bag back up, he slid out of the wreckage.

"Seems the pilot was on a drug run." He dusted off his clothes and shook his head to rid himself of the decay. "I found enough cocaine in there to make up for our botched assignment. The DEA will be quite happy with the Agency for this score."

"How long do you think it's been here?"

"By the looks of the pilot in there, I'd say several years. But with this warm weather, it's hard to tell." She shivered at the mention of the dead pilot and he tried to take her mind off it. "What do you say we continue our walk and see if we can't find some more of that . . . what did you call that big rock fruit?"

"Jackfruit." She giggled.

"Right. Jackfruit. Let's go." He held out his hand and smiled when she took it without even seeming to notice.

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"The Devil finds work for idle hands." -- Proverb 

He couldn't watch her anymore. She was making him nervous! What was she thinking? "A-man-da! We're not moving in! You don't have to straighten up the camp. We'll be out of here in a day!"

"I know, Lee. I just . . ." She looked so solemn. No matter what was going on in her life, she usually wore a smile and had a great attitude to go with it. He hated to see her upset.

Lee clicked the blade back into its slot and set down the piece of wood he was sharpening. "Amanda, come sit down, please." She wandered over to him and plopped down on the sand next to him. He picked up her right hand and stroked it trying to calm her nerves. "We're gonna be off this island in no time and you'll be back with your family where you belong." When she didn't answer him right away he searched her eyes trying to read her thoughts.

"I know that. It's just that I feel so bad for that pilot. His family has no idea what happened to him. He's been here for God knows how—"

"Amanda, he was a drug runner—".

"He was still a human being, Lee--with family and friends." She pulled her hand from his grasp.

"Ah, yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck roughly. "You're right. I'm sorry." Of course, she wouldn't be thinking of herself. Amanda always thought of everyone above herself. Awkwardly he grabbed the piece of wood he'd been carving and gave her a weak smile. "Look, what do you say I go test this spear out and see if I can catch us some dinner?"

"Sounds great. I'll make sure the fire is ready."

"I –"

"Just don't spear yourself!"

He sighed. "Yeah."

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**"The best of intentions . . . the road to hell is paved with them." -- Unknown**

"Well, I have to admit. I didn't think you were going to be able to catch anything with that stick—"

"It's a spear." Why did he suddenly sound like a cave man?

"Oh, I'm sorry." She held up her hands laughing in mock surrender. "It really was delicious. I haven't eaten fresh fish like that in so long. I just don't get much time to take the boys fishing anymore."

"I guess, we do keep you pretty busy around the Agency, huh?"

She shrugged. "The boys are getting to that age where fishing with their old mom isn't cool."

"Oh, I don't know . . . I think their mom is pretty cool."

"Well, thank you very much, sir." She smiled as a flush found its way to her cheeks.

Silence permeated the air for a few awkward moments as Lee stacked more logs on the fire. "So . . ."

"We _could_ tell ghost stories, but I'm afraid all your stories would be too true to life."

"Yeah or still classified." He reached behind him for his backpack and slid out the bottle of rum from the crash site. "We could play a drinking game. You know, to pass the time."

"What, you mean like spin the bottle?"

"Mrs. King, I'm shocked! I was thinking more along the lines of "Truth or Dare."

"How is that a drinking game, Stetson?" She eyed him suspiciously.

"I would ask you if you wanted truth or dare and if you decided not to answer or do the dare, you'd have to take a drink." Seeing the look of confusion on her face he wished he'd never brought it up. "Never mind. It was a stupid idea." He attempted to slide the bottle back into the pack.

"No, no." She took the bottle from his grasp and read the label. "It sounds . . . fun. Besides, it's not like either of us has anything else do." She grinned. "You go first!"

"You're first!"

"Now come on! It was your idea so you should go first."

"Fine. Dare."

"Gee, that's a surprise."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" He reached for the bottle in her hands, and grinned when she held it out of his reach.

"Nothing."

"No, you meant something by it or you wouldn't have said it."

"You never tell me anything about yourself."

"So you think I'm just going to pick dares the entire game?"

She shrugged and stared at the fire, running her fingers over the bottle cradled in her lap.

"Alright, I promise to do both equally. Satisfied?" She smiled brightly back at him, and he swallowed nervously. _'Maybe this wasn't such a great idea.'_

Amanda ran her pendant across its chain for a few moments as if she were contemplating the meaning of life. Finally, she blurted out the dare. "I dare you to eat the rest of the cararilli."

Without thinking about it for even a second he grabbed the bottle of rum from her, threw off the cap, and took a big swallow.

She shook her head and laughed. "I knew it!"

"That's stuff's awful. Can you blame me?"

Her face scrunched up in disgust and she shook her head.

"You're turn. Truth or dare?"

"I better start off with truth."

"I thought you might say that. Let's see." He pretended to contemplate his question for a few quiet moments, not wanting her to know that he had a burning question already lined up. After what he thought was the appropriate length of time, he cleared his throat and rushed ahead. "What went wrong between you and Joe?"

She held out her hand and he looked at her in confusion. It wasn't until she eyed the bottle that he realized she was refusing to answer the question. 'She must really not want to tell me--she never drinks straight liquor.' He had assumed it was a sure thing that she'd answer all his questions and even attempt the dares to avoid the rum. He'd underestimated her yet again.

Amanda slipped the cap off the clear bottle and took a tentative sip. She coughed after swallowing and looked at him with watery eyes. "Smooth." she croaked. Wiping the corners of her mouth she pressed on. "Your turn, and I believe it's time for truth."

Lee groaned inwardly. What was she going to ask him? How personal would she get? . It was a strange thought--titillating and frightening. Nonetheless, he steeled himself for what was to come.

"Why does your uncle call you Skip?"

"A-man-da! _That's_ the burning question you have about me?" He rubbed his forehead in frustration and disappointment.

"What am I supposed to ask?"

"Well, I don't know . . . something . . . a bit more personal than that. We aren't in high school." Her face turned crimson and he regretted his last statement. "I'm sorry. Ask whatever you'd like."

"No, no. You're right. I was just afraid to get too personal. Ok . . . why did you and Leslie break up?"

'Oh boy. You had to tell her to ask tougher questions!' "Uh, well." He ran his hand through his hair, but scowled when his fingers snagged in the tangles. "I guess I just realized she wasn't what I wanted."

"Not ready to give up your little black books?" She laughed nervously and absently took another sip of the rum. No coughing this time, only a grimace after she swallowed.

"No, that's not it. I just realized that _she_ wasn't the one." He tried to let her know what he felt without being too obvious. Hell, he didn't even know what he felt, how was he going to communicate it to her? All he knew was that when he was with Leslie he felt like he was forgetting something--missing something.

Taking the bottle from her, he took a cleansing drink. "Your turn. I believe you're due for a dare, dear partner." When she opened her mouth to protest he added. "It's only fair!"

"Alright, Scarecrow. Dare." She glared at him and then snatched the bottle back. .

"Hey! I haven't even told you the dare yet!"

"I'm just preparing myself."

Lee laughed. He loved how she could make fun of herself and seem perfectly comfortable doing it. She really was one in a million.

"So, what's my task?"

"Oh. Um. I dare you . . . to . . ." He couldn't think of a dare! 'Think, Stetson!' Scanning the beach, he ran scenarios through his head but nothing seemed appropriate for Amanda.

"Wow! Already out of ideas, Stetson?" She mocked, her eyes challenging him as she handed him the bottle in triumph.

If they were going to play this game the way it should be played she'd need more rum . . . they both would! "Okay, smarty. I dare you to take 3 shots of rum." He handed her the bottle with a big grin on his face.

"Three shots?"

"Three." He nodded.

She seized the bottle and took a deep breath before swallowing down the hot liquid.

"That's one."

"One? That was at least two!" she squeaked.

"Amanda, I said a shot not a sip."

She groaned and took her next swallow. "Two." Coughing, it was barely audible.

He would have felt guilty if it wasn't so much fun watching her fight every bend of the arm. She chugged down the final gulp. Lee wondered earlier how many swallows it would take her before she loosened up and the alcohol suppressed her common sense. Apparently, the number was two—otherwise she would have realized if she had opted out of the dare she would have only had to take one sip.

TBC . . .


	4. Chapter 4

(See chapter 1 for disclaimers)

**"Wine and women will make men of understanding to fall away." -- The Apocrypha XIX 2**

Several turns later, Amanda's head was spinning. Just when it seemed she'd answered everything he could possibly want to know, he came up with more. She couldn't believe he had actually climbed that palm tree for a coconut that last dare. Spying the half-empty bottle of rum lying between them, it was obvious where they were getting their courage. Lee was telling her more about himself in one night than he had over the entire course of their nearly three-year relationship.

"So whose turn is it? I think I lost track." He scratched his head.

She couldn't help but laugh at the look on his face. He was clearly feeling no pain. The lids of his eyes were lowered as the glow of the fire illuminated his face in the moonless night.

"Unfortunately, I think it's mine." She croaked. Her voice sounded hollow in her ears, the alcohol had obviously made its way into her system as well. She wondered if either of them would remember the events of this evening in the morning light.

"Truth or dare?"

"Hmmm?"

"Truth or dare?"

"Oh, um . . . truth."

"Amanda, would you . . ."

"Would I what?" Her stomach lurched and her mind was going a mile a minute trying to figure out what it was he wanted her to do.

He guzzled more rum and pressed on. "Would you and Alan Chamberlain still be . . . seeing each other if he had stayed in D.C.?" He nervously rubbed his bearded chin, waiting for her reply.

Gazing into her partner's eyes, she could see he was waiting for a very specific answer. An answer, perhaps that would direct their ever-confusing relationship. She was tired of playing games. She wanted him to know how she felt about him—about them—together. By the look in his eyes, she was certain that's what he wanted too. Taking a deep breath, she summoned up her courage. "Lee, even if Alan had moved to D.C., I wouldn't be interested in seeing him as anything more than friends. He was a nice enough man, but he wasn't . . . the one." She peered longingly into his eyes, trying to communicate the words she couldn't bring herself to say. "Do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I think I do."

She shivered and rubbed her arms as the cool night breeze made its way up the beach.

"Cold? Let me throw on another log. Why don't you look through my pack—there's a long sleeve shirt in there, I think. It's not much but it should help a little."

"Thanks." After a bit of searching she was wrapped in his shirt. The distinct smell of her partner wafted thru her senses and she hugged her arms in delight. Reaching for the bottle on the other side of him, she brushed up against his thigh. "Sorry, I . . ." She held up her hand, indicating the bottle and then sat back down. Taking a sip for strength she plunged ahead. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Remember the Sallee case a couple weeks ago?" At his nod she continued. "What would you have done if my family hadn't come home early?"

"You mean, when we—."

"Yeah." She smiled shyly.

"I would have kissed you soundly." His lopsided grin tugged at her heart.

"Really? Well, I dare you to finish what you started." Her hand covered her mouth as soon as the words escaped. "Oh my gosh! It's the rum! I can't believe I said that!"

"Well, even though you're out of turn, Mrs. King . . . I'll take that dare." He winked at her and smiled as he reached over and pulled her closer. His right hand was warm on the back of her neck as he pulled her closer and his left hand caressed her jaw line. His lips were mere millimeters from hers. They've played this scene before—would it finally happen?

The feel of his fingers caressing her cheek and neck were almost overwhelming. Here they were, on a tropical island, not another soul for miles and they were really going to kiss. Finally! She reached up and traced his lower lip with her finger. It was softer than she ever imagined. Licking her lips, she was ready as his mouth moved to cover hers.

A branch snapped in the shadows and they rolled apart. Lee caught her eye and brought his finger to his lips as they stared into the darkness. She nodded and watched as he grabbed the end of a thick log from the fire.

"Lee! Amanda!"

Amanda looked at Lee in shock. "The rescue team?" She whispered. What they'd been waiting on for two long days had finally come. Their rescue team was here. So why didn't either of them look pleased to see them?

Lee grumbled something incoherent and then jabbed the log back into the fire. "Over here!"

SMKSMKSMKSMKSMKSMK

**_"Time flies, death urges, knells call, Heaven invites, Hell threatens."_****_ – Edward Young_**

Lee groaned at the sight of their rescue team. Trudging through the sand behind them was none other than Billy and Francine.

Francine's mischievous expression said it all. He braced himself for what he was sure to be typical Francine Desmond. Her lips pursed together as she studied their surroundings. "Well, well, well. Isn't this cozy. Nice shirt, Amanda." She was consistent if nothing else!

"Knock it off, Francine. It gets cold out here at night." Lee gave Amanda a reassuring look and then rolled his eyes.

"I don't know, it seems pretty warm to me." She continued.

"Very funny."

"Are you two ok? Any injuries?" Billy's quelling glare stifled Francine, at least for the time being. Lee was thankful for any reprieve.

"Yes—" Lee began only to be cut off by a slightly intoxicated Amanda.

"No, sir." She hiccupped and brought her fingers to her mouth in embarrassment.

"Yes." Cocking his head he glared at her, daring her to argue with him. "Amanda has a big goose egg on her head. Something gave her a good whack in the crash. She needed stitches but it's a little late for that now."

"Ok. We'll have Dr. McJohn take a look when we get back. We saw the wreckage on our way in. You two really are lucky. We weren't sure what we were going to find once we found you. I'll go let the pilot know we'll be leaving soon. We're clear on the other side of the island."

Lee rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. The memory of the crash bombarding his senses but he quickly squelched them. Now was not the time to relive those moments. They needed to get off this island and get back to the comforts of home where he could better hide his feelings.

Francine eyed their camp suspiciously. Lifting up the half-empty bottle of liquor she cleared her throat—making sure to get everyone's attention before continuing. "Another way of fighting off that nip in the air, Scarecrow?" Before Lee could respond Amanda reached up and snatched the bottle from the blonde agent's hand.

"Thank you, I was looking for that." She stuffed the bottle into her pack. Whirling around, she marched in the direction of the helicopter.

Lee stared at her retreating form before turning his gaze to Francine who stood dumbfounded, and he nudged her in the ribs. "It's good stuff!" He winked and then scooped up his pack before following Amanda.

Billy and Amanda had already reached the helicopter and were loading up as he approached, so he stayed back a bit and listened in. "Sir, when Lee and I were exploring the island we came across a downed plane that had obviously been there for a while. Lee thought maybe a few years but with the heat he wasn't sure. There were drugs and money on the plane, Sir."

"Well, then maybe the mission wasn't a total bust after all. We'll call in a search team to take care of it, Amanda."

"Sir, the pilot . . . will the Agency notify his family?"

"We'll do what we can, Amanda."

"Yes, sir." Her shoulders slumped forward and she grasped the handle on the helicopter to pull herself in the back. Lee reached for her hand to help her in and she turned to face him. Each giving a smile but never saying a word, they settled themselves in the back, preparing for the long ride to the airport.

Reaching for her hand, Lee whispered in her ear. "We'll find his family, Partner. I promise." She smiled and squeezed his hand.

A few moments later he felt her hand go limp. Her head rested against the window--she was asleep and they hadn't even taken off yet. He was surprised she had lasted as long as she had with the amount of rum she'd consumed. "Sweet dreams, Amanda." he whispered.

SMKSMKSMKSMKSMKSMK

**_"Turbulence is life force. It is opportunity. Let's love turbulence and use it for change." -- Ramsay Clark_**

Lee lay sprawled out on his couch reading the Sunday paper. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since they'd returned home from the island and he hadn't talked to Amanda since their debriefing the day before. She had looked as exhausted as he felt. He hoped she'd have a chance to sleep but knowing how teenage boys were he doubted it.

Drinking the rum hadn't been the best idea but at the time it seemed logical. They had failed in their mission to bring down the large weapons dealer, Brenes, and had just gone through a traumatic experience that they were lucky enough to walk away from. On top of that, they were stranded on a deserted island not knowing when they would be rescued. Images of Amanda trying to sing the national anthem without messing up the words came to mind and he couldn't help but laugh. "Well worth the hangover!" He'd barely gotten the words out when he heard a knock at the door.

Opening it, he found his lovely partner on the other side--a bandage covering her right temple. There she stood--smiling—holding the half-empty bottle of rum. "We have a game to finish, Stetson!" She whizzed past him and plopped down on the couch.

"We wh . . .? Yeah, I guess you're right. But I don't think we need _this_ anymore." He moved the bottle to the table behind her and sat down next to her. Looking into her sparkling eyes he realized he could easily get lost in them if he wasn't careful. This was it. There was no going back now. They had crossed that fuzzy line they'd been tiptoeing around for months--the line between friendship and passion.

"Amanda, about what happened on the island . . ."

She groaned. "You aren't going to bring out that tired old speech again, are you?"

"Speech?" He really wasn't sure what she was talking about.

"Yes, the speech. 'Amanda, it was just two people seeking a little warmth. The alcohol lowered our inhibitions—'"

"Wait! I wasn't going to . . . Do I really sound like that?" He held his head in his hands. This was not going the way he had hoped. This called for different tactics. Slowly turning toward her, he wrapped a lock of her hair around his finger and then slid his other hand around the back of her neck to pull her closer. Lightly, his lips kissed her closed eyelids, then her nose and forehead before finding their home on her mouth. Tentative at first, when he felt her respond his lips demanded entrance into her warm cavern and she obliged.

Her lips were like spun silk. Why had he waited so long to kiss her? Really kiss her! Why hadn't he realized what a wonderful woman she truly was? She was beautiful, smart, funny, and most of all she was incredibly patient—thank God! After a few moments they were forced to break for air. She ran her finger and thumb over his clean-shaven face and pulled him into another kiss. "It wasn't your turn, Stetson!"

The End.


End file.
